


Broken Pieces

by Ruunkur



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Blood, Other, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, depictions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunkur/pseuds/Ruunkur
Summary: Dancing along the edge of the knife, he knew he would slip and fall one day.





	Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> If you have suicidal thoughts, there are helplines to call. My tumblr(Ruunkur) and discord(Ru'unkur 1764) are also always open if you would like to talk.
> 
> I'm working through some shit, so have this.

He was tired, kneeling in front of the toilet. Dark circles decorated his eyes. As he closed them, he felt the weight of the blade in his hand. There was blood on his leg, sluggish in its movements as it tried to decide which way to go in accordance to gravity.

The door slamming alerted him to his mother leaving.

The argument replayed in his head, the eighteen year old feeling a press of anger surge through him. Anger for his mother's reaction, anger for the hatred that she had shown him.

He moved the hand holding the blade away from his leg, the blood stirring when he finally did stand. It ran down his leg, dripping onto the tile floor. It was only for a moment before he sat on the edge of the tub, keeping his back against the wall as he looked at the blade.

It was a small thing, something that he had purchased three years ago. He had even looked up ways to sharpen it, when it had started to dull. His thigh was a mismatch of old, healing, and new scars and cuts. He looked away when he saw the blood once more, setting the blade on top of the toilet and grabbing a towel.

He pressed the towel against the cuts, the sting of the rubbing alcohol making him grit his teeth. Even after the allure of cutting, the stinging of the cleaning supplies brought him back to reality. It gave him something to ground with, when he felt like he was done for the night.

The anger that he held against his mother was still nestled deep in him. Takeru dropped the now soiled towel into the waste bin of the bathroom, deciding he would need to take it out. While his mother didn't use this particular bathroom often, he didn't want her finding out about his habits.

There was a pause as Takeru moved to pick back up the blade, grabbing another clean towel and the bottle of rubbing alcohol before he leaned over the tub, pouring it directly onto the blade and wiping it down with the clean towel. He set the towel to the side, examining the blade and gauging if it was clean.

His last test, before he ever put his tool away, was checking the sharpness. It was always fresh in his mind, right after e cut. It wouldn't do to pick up a dull blade, the next time he was in a rush. He had done that, once, and promised himself that he wouldn't do it again.

Right after hurting himself was the clearest his mind was, after all. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the blade, wincing at the unexpected pain of the blade cutting him. He pulled it away, placing his thumb into his mouth and sucking on it.

There was a spot of blood on the blade, Takeru transfixed by it. He held it closer to his face, examining it. In the distance, he could hear his phone ringing, the tone he had selected specifically for his partners jingling merrily across the silent apartment.

It was two more minutes, as Takeru examined the blade, that his phone rang before it went quiet.

He pulled his thumb out of his mouth, swallowing the last bit of blood down and examined the cut. It was clean, quick, the unexpectedness of it having made it hurt worse.

He lifted his right hand, resting the blade against the vein in his left wrist and traced it down, moving it ever so lightly. He did this four more times before he pressed harder against the skin, sinking the blade into himself.

He dragged downwards, his head swimming as both pain and the release of _something_ he couldn't describe took him over. He pulled the blade away as there was a knocking at the door, the boy staring at the blood that was dripping down his arm.

He froze when he heard the door be opened, turning towards the open bathroom door. Had his mother come back? He moved to stand, feeling a wave of dizziness send him sprawling onto the bathroom floor, just on the other side of the tub.

"Takeru!"

The blond turned when he heard the voice, body shaking as he clasped one hand over his left wrist, the amount of blood startling him.

He heard the footsteps as the world swam, feeling another pair of hands tighten against his wrist, his hand being pulled away and something being pressed down against it.

It was the cold that made him open his eyes, wetness clinging to him as he looked around the forest he had appeared in. The last memories, the distorted voice calling his name, over and over. He turned when he heard a rustle of wings, watching the figure step towards him.

The figure was cloaked in a robe, its face hidden in shadows. It tipped its head, Takeru feeling a gaze pierce through him.

"Aren't you young?"

He opened his mouth, closing it again and frowning. There was no pain here, just the mildly annoying dampness. He had been at home, he had-

"Am I dead?"

"Maybe."

The figure stepped closer, eyeing Takeru up and down before reaching out, placing a gloved hand on his wrist. Takeru felt the pain flare into his veins, his body giving a jerk before the figure pulled away.

"Slitting your wrists is a painful way to go, I've been told."

Takeru looked at his wrist where the figure had touched it, raising his right hand to touch the scar that had been left behind.

"Daisuke was coming over, I had..." he trailed off, struggling to remember what he had been so upset about. He jerked away as the figure tilted its head.

"You have attempted to take your own life, yes."

"Then, who are you?" Takeru asked.

The figure looked down at itself, before the hooded head looked back up at Takeru. "For one so young, you have suffered many loses. They weigh your soul down."

"Are you death?"

"Sometimes."

Takeru sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to find the eyes hidden among the fabric. "You're not going to give me a straight answer, are you?"

"Only if you ask a question that has a straight answer, then yes." The figure chuckled, Takeru raising a hand and running it through his hair.

"So, I'm maybe dead and you're only sometimes death."

"I'm only death when the person in question is dead." The figure tilted its head, bobbing it up and down. "Yes, you are between worlds. Why would you wish to hurt yourself in such a way?"

"It wasn't the first time I thought about it."

The confession left Takeru before he could stop himself.

"It had been with me, a lot lately. Like a blanket, suffocating me until there was nothing left. I had nowhere to turn but that... pain. I wanted the pain, I needed to know that it was possible to ressurface."

"So you thought... to slit your wrists?" The figure hummed, raising a finger and tapping the bottom half of the hood. "There are other ways to make yourself feel pain."

Takeru sighed, "it was... I would say it was an accident, but you can see through me. I think. I mean... When I started, it was to feel something. Then it became an addiction. Then... it stopped hurting and I wasn't getting anything in return. So..."

The figure listened, linking its hands under the hood, deep in thought. "If you want to die, go forward."

"Huh?"

"If you want to die, go forward." It gestured behind it, a path becoming clear with the use of lights. "Or, we can let fate decide what happens. If you want to go back, simply go back."

Takeru looked over his shoulder, seeing a path light up. He looked down at his wrists, seeing the scar from where the figure had touched him.

"And if I don't chose?"

"Then fate will decide." The figure pulled something out of a pocket, rattling a pair of dice in its hands. "Odds, forward. Evens, back. Does that sound fair?"

Takeru stared at the figure, closing his eyes. "Mom was angry, when she found out about my relationship. She was angry, we had an argument yesterday. I... I thought she would be happy, but she went on this rant about having two sons who were useless-"

He choked on the words, shutting his eyes.

"Do you think you're useless?"

"When I was younger, I couldn't fight. And, when my partner did evolve for the first time, he ended up dying. I was back to having to be protected until he was reborn. When Hikari found her partner, they were able to evolve almost straight away. She was useful to the team. I was still... just me. I was the last to jogress, too. I've always been..." he sighed, closing his eyes.

"But you have a relationship?" the figure asked.

"Y-yeah." Takeru looked away, feeling his face heat. "My brother has been open about his relationship with Taichi and Sora. Mom was angry about it. I..." he shook his head, closing his eyes. The figure tossed the dice into the air before snatching it, yawning.

"Why would I care about it?"

"Aren't you, like, supposed to argue about my life being precious?"

"Kid, humans are born and are killed every day. What difference does one more make? Your family, friends, and lovers will grieve. But the world will still go on. Human lives are very extiguishable."

"Throw the dice."

The figure leaned forward, the dice rattling in its hands before they were tossed down. Takeru felt his breath catch as he watched the dice tumble through the air, seeing the first one land on the number three. His gaze flicked to the other, the figure grinning.

"You can go now."

He watched the boy flick out of existence, looking at the dice that had landed on a four. He picked up the pair, letting out a sigh.

"Humans."

He said the word before disappearing in a flash.

***

Takeru's eyes snapped open, pain throbbing in his wrist. When he turned to the side, he could see his mother, stone faced, sitting on a chair.

"What the hell?" she hissed, moving to stand when she saw Takeru was awake.

"I'm moving out."

She stared at him, opening her mouth before sitting back down on the chair. Takeru stared up at the ceiling, feeling like he was swimming through gauze. It was tense in the room before his mother stood, walking out of the room. He closed his eyes, raising his wrist to look at it, his fingers moving to touch the bandages.

"Takeru?"

He dropped his hand as the hesitant voice entered the room, Ken standing in the doorway. His gaze was guarded, his body tense.

"Hey."

He expelled a breath as Ken entered the room, dragging the chair his mother had left behind closer to the bed.

"Thank god you're okay." Ken dropped his head onto the bedside, Takeru reaching out before pulling back, hearing ken's muffled cries. "I was-"

"I'm sorry."

"No, I-" ken looked up, pain in his eyes as he heard Takeru speak, shaking his head. "Daisuke was worried when you didn't answer our messages and calls. I just happened to be in the area. Takeru, you can _talk_ to us, if you need anything. You know this, right?"

Takeru swallowed, feeling the horror rise up as he realized the pain that he had caused Ken. "I-"

There were tears coming to his eyes, Takeru lowering his head. "There was an argument, with mom..."

"Yes, you had told us about the start of it... Takeru-" Ken shook his head, reaching out and taking Takeru's uninjured hand in his. "Please, please, it's okay to not be okay."

"I fail, at everything. Mom found out and she was so- so angry." Takeru closed his eyes, feeling Ken's other hand touch his shoulder.

"We can and will help you, if you want us to, Takeru."

Takeru opened his eyes, turning to look at Ken before he nodded, squeezing Ken's hand. "Is Daisuke...?"

"He's upset and trying to get here. He was at work when I called. Can't seem to think of a good enough excuse... You know how the chef is."

Takeru cracked a smile. "He got Daisuke to be clean."

He felt the tension uncoil in his chest, frowning after a beat. "He said... odds would be death."

"Huh?" Ken frowned when Takeru spoke, confusion threading its way through his gaze.

Takeru considered explaining before shaking his head, though he would have been interrupted anyway by a panting Daisuke as he scrambled into the room.

"Thank god!" He moved, throwing his arms around Takeru and pulling him into a hug. Ken yelped as he was awkwardly stuck between the two, Takeru pressing hsi face into Daisuke's shoulder.

"I want to move in with you two, if you can handle it?" Takeru felt his voice waver, Daisuke quickly pressing him back into bed with an apology as the pair nodded.

"As soon as you're released. We can get your stuff from your mom's house. Maybe... Maybe see if Yamato could help us, actually." Daisuke scratched the side of his face, Ken nodding in agreement.

Takeru let out a breath, closing his eyes as the pair began to discuss the logistical arrangements of moving Takeru into their tiny flat. It felt nice, knowing that they were there. As long as they were there, it would be okay.


End file.
